


i could show you the signs

by iodhadh



Series: out of the dust; into the dark [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Background Zevran/Male Warden, Betrayal, Other, Platonic Relationships, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:52:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5770231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iodhadh/pseuds/iodhadh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sten starts calling him kadan, Drust doesn't ask what it means—not until the qunari tells him something he never quite thought to hear again. There's been a hurt locked away inside him since Leske's betrayal, but maybe it doesn't have to be like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i could show you the signs

**Author's Note:**

> This is set shortly after one of my earlier Drust fics, [if you dare, come a little closer](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5558480), but should stand fairly well on its own. About the only thing you need to know is that Drust has already been back to Orzammar and seen a new king crowned at this point.
> 
> The title is a line from Data Romance's song Can't Keep Your Mind Off, which gives me a lot of Sten feelings. Give it a listen, if you like.

_It is not an issue of trust, kadan. I trust you with my life_ , Sten had said.

Nothing Drust had had to do in Haven had shocked him; with everything he had seen and done since leaving Orzammar, he was starting to think that nothing would ever shock him again. After facing down werewolves and speaking to demons and walking in the Fade, where no dwarf should ever have reason to find himself—what was a dragon-worshipping cult? What was a guardian from the time of Andraste? What was the Gauntlet itself? New, unexpected perhaps, but not strange, not at all beyond belief.

But what Sten had said to him—that was something else. The qunari was always finding ways to surprise him.

 _Kadan_ , Sten had called him—had been calling him, ever since he had unearthed Asala at last in Redcliffe, but this time it felt different. _Be careful_ , he had said, and _I trust you with my life_. It was those words that Drust kept circling back to. He had known, in the back of his mind, that there was nowhere Sten wouldn’t have followed him, but it was one thing to know it and another entirely to hear him say it aloud. Drust had pushed it aside for the duration of their time in Haven, but once their mission was complete and they were on their way out of the village, it needled at him.

Their camp was quiet that night. He sat up late, watching the fire burn down; Sten stayed with him, the regular rasp of his whetstone a steady reminder of his presence. There was nothing to distract him from his thoughts.

 _Kadan_ , Sten said, and though Drust didn’t know a thing about religion it sounded like a benediction every time.

“What does it mean?” he said abruptly, interrupting Sten’s meditations on his sword edge. The qunari’s hands stilled, and Drust turned to look at him. “That word you call me, what does it mean?”

Slowly Sten set the whetstone down, folding his hands in his lap. “You haven’t asked before,” he said.

Drust shrugged and forced himself not to look down. “I didn’t think it mattered. I knew it was something your—your kith called each other. I thought you’d tell me if you wanted to.”

“And yet you ask now,” Sten said, his voice carefully neutral.

“You said you’d trust me with your life,” Drust said softly. “It’s more than just kith, isn’t it? It means something special.”

For a moment Sten didn’t say anything, then he tipped his head in a slow nod. “Yes,” he said. “‘The centre of the chest.’”

Drust blinked, then recalled the qunari penchant for metaphor. “The heart?” he said.

Sten nodded again. “You returned my sword to me,” he said. “You are my kadan.”

Suddenly Drust found himself blinking back tears, and all he could think was, _Zevran was right—it is an endearment_.

“The word is used among the qunari for those whose lives are important to us,” Sten continued. “The people it would most hurt us to lose.”

Drust sucked in a breath. “We have a word like that,” he said, the words tumbling out of him in a rush. “Dwarves, I mean. Salroka. It means ‘one who stands at my side.’”

Sten regarded him, his brow furrowing minutely. “A shopkeeper called you that,” he said.

“Well—” Drust began, then shook his head. “It’s not exactly the same. It’s sort of… understood, I suppose, that it means different things in different contexts.”

“So a shopkeeper using it is not the same as a friend using it,” Sten said.

“Yeah,” Drust said, scrambling to find a way to explain the nuances of a word he had always known. “With a stranger—a merchant—everyone knows it’s just talk. It’s to sound friendly, but it doesn’t _mean_ anything. The way shopkeepers say ‘ser’ here, that’s how they say ‘salroka’ in Orzammar. Only in the Commons or the slums, though—it’s too casual for a respectable shop. The upper castes don’t use it at all, that I know of.”

Sten nodded, looking thoughtful. “Yet when spoken by one you care for…”

“It means something,” Drust confirmed. “It means—the person who’s always got your back, who you’d trust with anything. You’d lay down your life for them, if it came to that. It’s not just—people take it seriously, when it’s used between people who know each other. Leske—” He swallowed abruptly, voice cracking. “Leske was my salroka.”

The expression on Sten’s face was perhaps the closest Drust had ever seen him to openly astonished. “But he betrayed you.”

Drust laughed, a miserable sound, wishing suddenly that he hadn’t brought it up. “I know.”

In the silence that followed the crackling of the fire seemed oppressively loud, and Drust could barely stand to meet Sten’s eyes. But then the qunari carefully set his sword aside and hauled himself to his feet, crossing the camp in a few swift steps. Before Drust could react, he sank into a seat beside him, the solid bulk of his thigh pressing nearly the length of Drust’s leg. Sten hesitated only an instant before putting his arm around his shoulders.

“I would sooner rip my own heart from my body than betray you, kadan,” he said.

Drust bit back a sob, turning his face into Sten’s ribcage. “I know,” he repeated. “I’d never—I’ve never doubted that. Leske was—it was different.”

“How?” Sten said. His voice was not ungentle, but nor was it forgiving. “There is no justification for a betrayal of that nature.”

But Drust shook his head, lifting his face to look up into Sten’s brilliant violet eyes. “I failed him, Sten,” he said. “You don’t know what it was like, living in Dust Town. If I hadn’t left—” He bit his lip. “I was his salroka, too, and I left him there.”

For a long moment Sten said nothing, just holding his eyes as his expression flickered minutely with his thoughts. “In Haven, the Guardian asked you of your regrets,” he said slowly. “You wouldn’t speak to him. Perhaps… you would prefer to speak to me?”

Drust sighed. “It was too complicated to explain,” he said, dragging a hand across his eyes. “It’s not that I didn’t want to admit to it, it’s just… too much. Do I regret leaving Orzammar? I couldn’t. Being here, being a Grey Warden, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” A humourless chuckle broke from his throat, and he shook his head again. “That should tell you all you need to know about how bad Dust Town was. And I just—I abandoned him to that. That’s what I regret. Not my sister or my mother, they’ve been well looked after, but Leske—what else was there for him to do but go to the Carta? I _knew_ that. I knew it and I left him there anyway, because he told me he’d be fine and I was fool enough to believe him.”

Sten considered that, a faintly skeptical twist to his mouth. “Tell me something: would it have made a difference if you had stayed?”

“I don’t know,” Drust said. “I guess not. They were going to sentence me to death. But I could have done something, I could have—I don’t know.” He exhaled roughly. “I’m sorry. This probably sounds stupid.”

“I understand,” Sten said. His hand was gentle against Drust’s back. “It’s possible to feel a failure even when there is no way to win. Perhaps especially then.”

“Yeah,” Drust said. “You’re probably right.”

The quiet stretched out between them, and Drust relaxed slowly, sinking into the comfort of Sten’s closeness. The qunari removed his arm from Drust’s shoulders after a little while, but remained nearby, making no move to retrieve his sword from the other side of the fire. Drust watched the coals burn down, hardly noticing the afterimages they left imprinted on his vision.

“I thought he was going to turn on her, you know,” he said finally. “Right up until he attacked me. Past that, even—I was so sure it had to be some kind of ruse. That he was only doing it to trick her into turning her back. Naive of me, I guess.”

“I’d have thought the same,” Sten said, “if you turned your blades on me.”

Drust’s breath froze in his chest. “I’d never,” he said. “I promise you.”

Sten nodded, a small smile touching his lips. “I know, kadan. And if you did, I would trust you had good reason.”

 _I trust you with my life_.

Drust swallowed. “I killed him myself,” he said, nearly choking on the words. “I couldn’t just—I had to be the one to do it. I don’t know if that makes me a bad person or not. I didn’t _want_ to kill him, but I couldn’t let him die at someone else’s hands.”

“There was nothing else you could have done,” Sten agreed. “You honoured him in the only way left to you. I would not think less of you for that.”

“Thanks,” Drust said softly. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms; they felt gritty and heavy, prickling with exhaustion and unshed tears. “I should probably sleep.”

Sten shifted without a word, giving him the space to stand, but caught Drust’s arm before he could move away. “Kadan,” he said, “I will always be at your side.”

A surge of emotion welled up in Drust’s throat, and he met Sten’s eyes, his gaze steady despite the tremor he could feel in his hands. He took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he said. “And thanks for listening. It’s… good to remember I’m not alone.”

Sten regarded him a moment more, then released him, satisfied. “You have others in your kith as well,” he said, nodding to the tent where Zevran was already sleeping. “Do not forget that. Goodnight, kadan.”

Drust gave him a tired smile. “Goodnight, salroka.”

The strength of feeling on Sten’s face warmed him through, and Drust felt something hard unknot itself in his chest. He had expected it to hurt, and it did, but despite the sting it felt good to call someone salroka again. The pain of Leske’s betrayal would fade in time; for now he had Sten’s solidity at his back instead. He couldn’t help but hope Leske would approve, somehow.

Sleep was calling. He went to his bed.

**Author's Note:**

> So did you know that if you complete Sten's personal quest before going to Haven, you have a bunch more dialogue options in the conversation he initiates there and can in fact avoid fighting him entirely? It sure is something. I recommend it highly.


End file.
